Gradually, one by one, the visiters thinned off and returned to their quarters, until only Col. Watson and himself were left. The Colonel and Mrs. Blakeley had sat down to a game of cards in a distant corner of the apartment. Here was an opportunity to decide his fate. It might be the last time he would find Kate alone, for the camp was expected to move in a few days. The occasion was not to be neglected, and, doubtful as he felt of the issue, he arose, and leaning over her, said, in a low voice,
“I fear, my dear Miss Mowbray, that I offended you by what I said of Capt. Preston. I forgot, for a moment, that he was an old playmate of yours. You cannot tell how pained I am that any thing I said should displease you.”
“It matters little—I am not at all displeased,” said Kate, keeping her eyes on her work, her heart beating violently. “Capt. Preston needs no defender in me, nor asks one. I but spoke generally in behalf of my countrymen.”
Major Lindsay saw her embarrassment, and, misinterpreting the cause, drew a favorable omen from it.
“You relieve my heart from a load,” he said. “I could bear any thing rather than your displeasure. Indeed you must long have seen how I loved you. Nay, do not rise from the table. I worship the very ground you tread on—my life itself is bound up in your smiles—all I have, heart, fortune, reputation, I lay at your feet—”
He would have continued in the same impassioned strain, but Kate, summoning up all her self-command, rose with dignity.
“It pains me to hear this, Major Lindsay,” she said. “I will be frank. That you sought my society, I saw, but that you loved me I never believed.”
The face of Major Lindsay flushed, but he controlled his features, and detained her as she would have moved away.
“Do not bid me despair,” he said. “In time I may be allowed to hope. Let me fancy that my devotion may at last win me this fair hand.”
“No time can alter my sentiments,” said Kate, coldly.